comparing

writer

Beautiful.

I read his entry and inspired, I came back to my space and stared at the screen for a while. My words felt clumsy. Silly. Child-like scribbles on the wall. The thoughts in my mind were there. They just floated around like dust in a ray of sunlight, unwilling to string themselves into prose like his did.

Why don’t you just give up?

I thought about it. I really did. But then, I never did begin writing because I wanted to please a reader. I wrote because there is no other way I know to reach deep within myself and make sense of my convoluted, sinewy lines of thoughts. I write because I need to. Sometimes, they are inspired. Sometimes, they meander. Tonight, I write like an unfit man who just started running his first mile.

And while I sulk, you can read his writing below. Enjoy.

“She was a girl made out of words.

I would never find out how she came into existence, the way she burst into being into this life. I imagine it would be like the way the colours change and shift during sunset – blazing amber and diffusing angry orange, lightening and softening into a hazy mix of blush-pink and rich lilac, all in the space of mere moments – and before you knew it, the sky darkened as it swelled with the hues of a deep, mysterious purple.

You stood there, mouth agape, eyes transfixed, each filled with colour. Tasting the sweet salt of the sea air on your tongue.

Looking away your gaze would fall on her, woven together by strange alphabets wrung from lost languages, finding her way into your world in those moments the colours changed. Those moments that your eyes missed.

And just like that your world had changed forever. With a single glance. It’s just like how that tired old cliche goes: ‘Words have power’. If you let them, they reach into you with long fingers and a grip like death’s: they will wrap themselves around your heart and write themselves across it.

Words can have a hold over you that clings on even in the afterlife. They unmend and they unravel just as well as they make sense of things. They destroy. Just look at how words on a screen can break the heart of a boy miles away. They drip hate, unveil scorn, and they will leave you behind with the same fierceness with which you pursued them. They leave you utterly alone, gasping, crying even, in the darkness.

But words — they are the dreams of heaven. The bliss turning your toes fleet and light as if they could fly. The brightest smile you have ever seen. They’re all just words. Words that read themselves out to you, long and soft and laced with music like a voice over the phone, strung together by sentences and syntax, pulled like string into the most beautiful girl you know.

She was just like that. A girl made out of words.

It scares me sometimes, when I realise that words are the only things I have left in me.”

Comparing. There’ll always be someone out there better. Someone more articulate, smarter, prettier… I guess somewhere along the line, we’ve just got to get comfortable in our skins. Thank god there’s always someone out there who inspires us to get better at what we’re doing.

Thanks dude.

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One thought on “comparing

  1. Yeah.My entries felt so childish and banal when I read his story.Told him that I want to pick his brain! haha

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